


20 Questions

by lethargicProfessor



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 18:56:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1123221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lethargicProfessor/pseuds/lethargicProfessor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Batfam Holiday Exchange Fic<br/>Prompt: Batgirl and the Red Hood team up. Banter and make outs ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	20 Questions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [redbrunja](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redbrunja/gifts).



> This is my first time writing smut, and also Steph, so I hope I didn't screw up too much on either of those. Also if you see any typos I wrote this at 5 in the morning, the day it was due, right before a final.

            Patrol, as far as Steph was concerned, was a bust.

            One failed armed robbery (Dick took care of that faster than it took Steph to drop down to the shop), one attempted mugging (Cass left the guy hanging from the street lamp like the world’s saddest piñata), and one major villain breaking into Star Labs (Bruce and Damian could handle Mr. Freeze in their sleep) in one night meant that there was nothing left for Steph to do.

            That _sucked_. She had even finished her homework early to go on patrol. She _could_ go home and watch reruns of Kitchen Nightmares, but being home on Saturday night watching TV was a little too lame, even for her.

            “O, is there anything else going on? Some illegal activities? Super villains out and about? Anything?”

            She could feel Babs rolling her eyes at her through the comm link. “ _Nothing left tonight, Batgirl. The others are taking care of it. Go get some rest.”_

            Steph groaned, shooting her grapple over to the next building. “Got it. Batgirl out.”

            Shutting the comm off for the night felt like a disappointment, but there wasn’t anything else she could do short of starting a fight on purpose. That was lamer than going home to Gordon Ramsey.

            Grappling across Gotham was sort of worth it, in the end. The wind blowing in her face and the lights were mesmerizing. The feeling of flying was one of the few reasons why she could probably never give up the vigilante gig.

            On a whim, she swung over Park Row, listening to the sounds of home: dogs barking, people shouting, people screaming. The normal stuff, basically. Even the gunshots weren’t too surprising, though it did make her change her course. Couldn’t be too careful in Crime Alley.

            The gunshots sounded again, echoing in a dead end alley. Curious despite herself, Steph landed on the building above, peeking over the edge. It was hard to tell what was going on in the dark, but she did manage to catch a distinctive glint of red in the flash of a muzzle.

            “Well, you wanted something to do, Steph,” she grinned, readying a grapple and shooting it at an angle to the neighboring building. It caught on the fire escape, giving her a firm grip and a beautiful entrance.

            Wrapping the excess line around her leg as a tether, she swung down into the alley, letting her head fall back. “I came in like a _wreeeecking ball~_!”

            Steph swore she heard a bark of laughter as her boots came into contact with a very solid chest. She hoped it wasn’t the Red Hood, because otherwise that was going to be a very embarrassing story to tell in the morning. Tucking into a roll, she used her momentum to spring back up into a fighting stance, trying to take note of the situation. Seven thugs of the week surrounded them, looking menacing enough with their stun guns and tire irons. Still, she had fought worse.

            “That was some entrance,” a voice behind her called, fighting off chuckles. She felt Hood shift behind her, making sure they were back to back without hindering the other. “Definitely a nine out of ten. Maybe a solid nine and a half, but only because you missed two guys on your way down.”

            Steph, despite every single warning ever, enjoyed working with the Red Hood. He had a killer sense of humor (no pun intended) when he wasn’t being a complete asshole, but she was under the suspicion that he was only an asshole when Dick and Tim were around. He was nothing but courteous to her and Cass and Babs, but it could also be that they didn’t hate him. As far as she knew, anyways.

            “I got one guy, didn’t I?” She laughed, watching the guys on her side warily. “You just need to step up your game, Hood.”

            “Oh? Is that a challenge, Batgirl?” Steph leaned back, bumping her hip against his ass lightly.

            “I already got one of mine, Hoodie.” She slipped some batarangs from her pockets, crouching. “Whoever gets done first wins. Maiming only, no killing.”

            “Fuckin’ spoilsport.” The guys surrounding them shifted, visibly uncomfortable, until one decided to throw caution to the wind. He lunged at them from her four o’clock, swinging a rusty piece of rebar at them.

            Steph ducked under the swing, hearing the _swish_ as the rebar cut through the air. Before he finished the swing she slipped under his arm, kneeing him hard in the gut. He dropped the rebar as the air left his lungs, and she scooped it up. It wasn’t the perfect weight of her escrima stick, but it was good enough. She twirled it in her hands for a second, bringing it down across the man’s shoulders, forcing him to the ground.

            The other men ran at them, weapons raised, but it was easy enough to disarm them. Using the rebar as a brace, Steph vaulted over one with a stun stick (Arkham issued, what a surprise) and swiped his legs out. He fell on the business end of the stick, unfortunately, so she paused a second to flip him over. Couldn’t have a charbroiled baddie on her hands. “How’re you holding up, Hood?”

            “Could be doing a lot better if someone hadn’t cramped my style!” She saw him block a blow from a baseball bat with his forearm, and physically wrench the bat from the gangster’s hands before swinging at him hard. The bat cracked as it came in contact with the guy’s back, sending him down like a sack of bricks. “And it’s a home run for the Red Hood! The crowd goes wild!”

            “No one says ‘cramped my style’ anymore, Hood,” Steph snorted, flipping a guy with a crowbar over her shoulder. “Not since the early 90s.”

            He scoffed, backhanding a thug with the butt of his gun as he tried to sneak up on him. “Excuse me for not staying up to date with all your FaceSpace and MyBook slang. I was busy being dead and stuff.”

            “You do _not_ get to play the dead card on this, you incredible egghead dork.” Steph stood, dusting off her knees. “This isn’t Cards against Humanity or something, okay? I know you watch TV. Ro—uh, Red Arrow tells me that you secretly marathon Hallmark movies.”

            “I do _not_ ,” he huffed, tossing his last guy into the dumpster nonchalantly. “They just happen to be on when I’m doing stuff. You’re fucking up my street cred, punk.”

            “I’ve seen you carrying kittens around in full gear, doofus. You _have_ no street cred.” She smiled at him, weaving around the unconscious thugs carefully. He laughed again, holding out his fist at her.

            “Nice job. I could’a handled it, but I appreciate the help, pretty bird.” Steph shook her head, fist bumping him anyways. Really, if he wasn’t such an asshole sometimes, everyone would get along with him.

            “Thanks for letting me, uh, drop in.” He nodded, kneeling down to tie up the thugs.

            “You can head out if you want. Clean up is the boring part.” Steph stretched, glancing around one more time, just in case, and caught movement out of the corner of her eye.

            One of Hood’s thugs lunged at him with a knife, flailing madly in an attempt to hurt him. Without thinking (and wasn’t that how it always was?) Steph shouldered him out of the way, wincing as the knife dug into the thin Kevlar at her shoulder. “Crap!”

            Of course the guy got the one lucky shot of the night. It just _had_ to be at the weakest point in their reinforcement, since needed mobility at the joints, and not thick padded armor.

            “You son of a bitch!” Steph felt rather than saw Hood launch himself at the thug, knocking him out quickly before scrambling back. “You okay?”

            Steph sat up, probing her shoulder lightly. In the low light it was kind of hard to tell, but it definitely cut through to the skin. “I’ll live, I guess. Mind helping me up?”

            “You need me to call someone?” Hood shifted faintly as he helped her up. He reached out to touch the wound but paused midway, letting his hand hover awkwardly between them before he dropped it to his side. “Or I could take you to someone…or something…”

            Steph poked the gash lightly, wincing. She probably wouldn’t be able to grapple home with just one arm, but the thought of calling Dick, or worse, Tim, made her stomach churn. “A lift to Leslie wouldn’t be bad at all.”

            “She’s out of town.” He held his hand out, awkward radiating from his body language. “Um…I can take you home. I’ve got a safe house nearby…”

            Oracle would probably say that it was a bad idea to go with him. Bruce would totally yell at her going with him. Dick would too. It was actually pretty much guaranteed that everyone in the family would yell at her for doing it. So…that only left her with one course of action.

            “Sure. Why not?” 

* * *

 

            The safe house was nicer than she expected, if she was completely honest with herself. The bright fluorescent lights overhead lit up the space neatly: the living room with a decent sound system, the shelves against one wall, the surprising amount of weapons, also on the wall. It looked like a regular bachelor pad, post-zombie apocalypse.

            Hood shucked his jacket off, tossing it on the couch, and followed it with the helmet. His black hair stood up in spikes, but as far as cowl-hair was concerned, it wasn’t half-bad. “Sit, pretty bird. Need to see the damage.”

            “Pretty bird?” It was more original than ‘Blondie’, she would give him that. Shrugging (and wincing), Steph walked to the island in the kitchen, clambering onto the stool. “Nice digs, by the way. Very retro-chic.”

            “What does that even mean?” He snorted, peeling off the red domino mask from his face carefully. “It sounds really made up.”

            “It’s not,” Steph promised, easing the cowl off her head, attempting to smooth down the definite flyaways she knew were there. The guys had it easier with short hair. The worst they ever got was a relatively bad case of hat hair, but she always looked like Medusa’s distant relative.

            Hood raised his eyebrow at her, completely disbelieving, and at once, she was taken away by how _green_ his eyes were. So much for carbon copy Robins. “Dude, your eyes look like candy apples.”

            “Um,” he bit back a laugh, shaking his head at her. “Candy apples are red, unless I’m suddenly very colorblind.”

            Steph felt the heat rise in her cheeks, embarrassed to have just blurted that out. _Filter, Steph. Learn to filter._ “Well….apple green then. Jesus, that’s not natural.”

            He scoffed, walking around the corner and out of sight. “Gee, thanks for reminding me I’m a freak of nature.”

            “I didn’t mean it like that!” Steph called after him, unzipping the top part of her suit. “Way to go, Steph…”

Hood walked back soon enough, setting a first aid kit and a bottle of rum on the counter beside her arm. “Scoot over and let me see.”

“Isn’t that a little…much?” Steph turned the bottle around to read the label. “Coconut rum is gross and you’re a heathen.”

He laughed again, shaking his head, causing a few white strands of hair to flop onto his forehead. She was pretty sure this was the most she had ever heard him laugh before. Either she was being exceptionally funny, or really fucking stupid. Either way, it was a nice sound.

            “I’m okay with that. More for me.” He opened the first aid kit, pulling out a small bottle of peroxide. “If Doc Thompkins thought I was stitching people up with Malibu Rum she’d kill me all over again.”

            “You know, considering how much everyone tiptoes about…well, all of you, really, you make a lot of dead jokes.” He shrugged, moving over to check the gash on her shoulder. From what she could see, it wasn’t bleeding too much anymore, but it was going to need stitches.

            “It’s fun watching everyone squirm,” he murmured softly, pushing the strap of her favorite (and now ruined) sports bra out of the way to see better. “Besides, if I don’t joke about it, who will?”

            “That’s super morbid.” Steph reached into the first aid kit to fish out the top of a petri dish, waving it at him. “This for disinfecting?”

            He nodded, reaching across her to grab the peroxide. “Yeah. Grab the needles for me? It’s not as deep as it could have been, but it’s probably a good idea to sew you up before we send you back to dear old Dad.”

            “Fun…” Steph pulled out a set of needles from the kit, dumping one of the smaller ones into the dish, watching as Hood poured the peroxide into it. Then, as an afterthought, he poured it over her shoulder. The burn caught her off guard, and he smirked at her startled yelp. “You _asshole_!”

            “I’m helping,” he replied, pouring more of the solution into the injury. It bubbled against her skin, but eventually stopped stinging. “There. See? Not so bad.”

            Steph sulked, sliding the needle over to him. “I hate you.”

            “Everyone does, pretty bird. Now be strong, and all that. This shouldn’t take too long.” He moved away from her to wash up, pulling on a pair of disposable gloves that she was sure had come from Dr. Thompkins.

            She was surprised at how quickly he went through the steps. His hands didn’t shake when he threaded the needle, and he slowly began stitching. He moved carefully at first, looking up occasionally to make sure he wasn’t hurting her too much. It stung a little, but she had gone through worse. The peroxide helped numb the area a little, though alcohol would have been better.

            He hunched over her shoulder, stitching up the gash carefully. Steph tried to look away, but a morbid curiosity made her look. Hood – no, Jason – was concentrating hard, brow furrowed, the tip of his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth. It made him look much younger than he seemed, and with a start, she realized she didn’t really know much about him. She was sitting in a stranger’s kitchen, watching as he sewed up her shoulder.

It wasn’t weird that she didn’t know anything about him, to be honest. It wasn’t like anyone ever reminisced about him, not like they did with Dick or Tim or Damian. Jason was always taboo. The only time he was ever brought up was as a big red warning sign – don’t fuck up, or you’ll end up like him. Still, it felt _wrong_ somehow to trust this guy without knowing anything about him. She _did_ trust him, she knew that much, but it was unfair that all she knew was his mistakes.

            “How _old_ are you?” He looked up at her, green eyes wide and confused.

            “Um.” He tilted his head, working on her shoulder. “Legal, I guess? I haven’t really thought about it.”

            “Well…How old do you think you are?” He looked up again, wrinkling his nose.

            “Why do you wanna know?”

Steph shrugged her good shoulder, looking up at the ceiling. “If I say it’s distracting me, would you answer?”

            He huffed, tugging on the needle. “This isn’t 20 questions.”

            “Please, Jason? I wanna get to know you.” That really caught him off guard. He fumbled the needle for a second, scrambling to catch it before it messed up the stitches. Steph waited patiently while he composed himself, fighting a smile as he nodded.

            “Fine. But this stays in here, okay? I don’t need everyone and their damn mother knowing…whatever.” He huffed again, focusing on his task.

Steph beamed. “Got it. So, how old are you?”

“Five.” Jason snorted when she kicked his knee, moving out of the way. “I’m serious. Almost six.”

“Answer properly!” Steph was tempted to kick him again, but he was still stitching up her arm. Jason nodded, moving closer.

“Um…21? 22 at most. Some stuff from when I came back is kind of foggy, but I know I lost a couple of years being a vegetable and all.” Steph knew that much, sort of.  Babs had dropped hints about it before, but because it involved Talia al Ghul, she didn’t know all the details.

“Why do you hate your brothers?” This time Jason stopped to look at her, a blank look on his face. It was one she had seen one too many times on various members of the Bat family. The ‘ _Are you serious? Is that a thing that actually came out of your mouth_ ’ look was a timeless classic in Stephanie Brown’s repertoire. She didn’t even flinch this time, meeting his stare evenly. He eventually looked away, rolling his eyes.

            “First of all, that’s not how 20 questions works, Blondie. Second, I don’t hate them. I get two questions now.” Steph was tempted to complain, but he was right. No fair cheating. He smirked at her reluctant nod, getting back to work.

            “Why do you do this?” Steph frowned faintly.

            “Do what?”

            Jason tied off the stitches slowly, cutting the string with his teeth before motioning to her suit. “This. The hero stuff. I mean…I know about your dad and stuff, but you could have walked away. You had a chance to. So why do it?”

            Steph tapped her fingers on the counter as he dabbed liquid bandage on the stitches. It was like confronting Barbara all over again. She could almost picture Scarecrow taunting her. She mulled over her words for a second, thinking back to the day she was finally accepted as Batgirl. “I came back for a second chance.”

            “What do you mean?” Jason pulled up a stool in front of her, watching her.

            “I had a lecture once, my freshman year. The professor told us that the only variable we can control is ourselves. I could have walked away. I did, for a little bit. But that’s not me. I can’t…” She moved her hands around uselessly, struggling to find the words. “I couldn’t leave things the way they were. Does that make sense?”

            Jason nodded slowly, tugging off the gloves. “I guess so. That’s really deep.”

            “Thank you.” Steph grinned, rolling her shoulder slowly to see how well the stitches would hold. “That was totally your second question, by the way.”

            “You’re awful.” Jason stood, tossing the gloves in her lap. “You wanna take a shower?”

            “With you?” The Red Hood, scourge of the underworld, sputtered loudly, turning to look at her with a scandalized look on his face. Seeing the grin on her face, he flushed, kicking his stool back into place.

            “Shut up. You’re worse than Dick, holy shit.” He picked up the first aid kit with more force than necessary, stomping to a back room. His boots clunked loudly in the room for a few minutes before he stomped back, tossing a bundle at her face. “Here. Go shower.”

            Steph slid off the stool carefully, cradling the bundle in her arms. “I was joking, you know that, right? ‘Cause you’re super red right now.”

            “Go!” She scurried down the hall, laughing brightly. So maybe patrol hadn’t been great, but all of this totally made up for it.           

* * *

 

 

After a quick shower, Steph wandered out. The shirt Jason lent her was more than a few sizes too big for her, hanging limply off her frame, but it was comfortable and smelled like the same fabric softener that her mother used. It made her laugh, picturing big, scary Jason Todd doing household chores like cleaning or cooking or washing clothes. Then again, he didn’t have a portable Alfred to help with that stuff.

            She wandered to the living room, looking for the vigilante. “Shower’s free.”

            Jason was sprawled out on the couch, reading a well-worn copy of _Frankenstein_. He looked up as she walked over, staring absently. “Um…yeah, thanks.”

            Steph nodded, tucking a few wet strands of hair behind her ear. “Mind if I borrow your washing machine?”

            “Sure. Second door. Be sure to kick the washer, otherwise it won’t start.” He stood, pulling off the off-white shirt had been wearing. Scars littered his chest, and Steph couldn’t help but stare. He was attractive, of course. Bruce sure knew how to pick them well. But the scars…Tim had scars, but nothing like this. She wanted to reach out and touch them, run her fingers across the thin white lines, kiss down the imperfections that made him who he was.

            Steph cleared her throat, shaking her head. _Whoa._ That train was _not_ allowed to leave the station. She absolutely needed to get out more. “Second door. Right. Got it.” She scurried back down the way she came, confused.

            It wasn’t that she hadn’t thought about the second Robin before. When Tim talked about him, she had pictured the cheeky boy she had seen in the pictures. Hell, for the longest time he was one of her biggest crushes. One school semester her entire English notebook was covered with clipped out pictures of Robin. Still, it was hard putting that image in her head together with wise-cracking, asshole-ish Jason Todd. It was the same person, but it wasn’t.

            Sure, once she met him and fought with him, she imagined what it would be like to get close to him. (And, okay, _maybe_ once she had a very nice dream involving them, the training mats in the bat cave, and can of whipped cream). But Red Hood the symbol was very different from Red Hood the person. It was the disassociation that was throwing her off. Yeah. That had to be it.

            “Hey, Steph?”

She jumped, startled as Jason peeked into the room. “What did you call me?”

“Uh…Steph? Or do you want Stephanie?” He looked confused for a moment, walking in to toss his shirt into a pile of dirty laundry. “Dick and Babs call you Steph, so…”

Steph shook her head, waving away his explanation. “No, it’s just…I think this is the first time you’ve actually called me by my name.”

“Oh. Sorry, I guess.” He flushed, rubbing his neck awkwardly. “Um…I was gonna say something. Oh! I’m gonna shower real quick, but help yourself to whatever. If there’s no food in the fridge there’s take-out menus in the drawer.”

“Alright…” Steph smiled, licking her lips faintly. If he was going to properly address her, maybe she could test the waters a bit too. “Thanks…Jay.”

He smiled faintly, nodding, and walked off. Steph waited until the sound of running water reached her ears before starting a quick load of laundry, tossing in some of his clothes too. The dark stuff wouldn’t stain if her bra bled onto other stuff, though the thought of Red Hood traipsing around with an eggplant t-shirt was tempting.

            Once she finished, Steph wandered around the apartment curiously, careful not to touch anything. He might be a decent guy, but the Red Hood still had a huge cache of explosives and weapons. The last thing she wanted was to blow herself up because she couldn’t keep her hands to herself.

            There was a bookshelf against one wall, rows and rows of books neatly lined up by height. Some looked like hand-me-downs, or the cheap paperbacks anyone could buy at a dollar store. Others were thick, leather bound hardcovers, their gold leaf titles worn from use. If she had to guess, she would say that more than a few belonged to the Wayne family library.

            Steph plucked a thicker volume down, opening it carefully. It smelled like old paper, the pages thin and yellowed. Inside, however, were hundreds of colorful sticky-notes. She squinted at one, frowning as the word SYMBOLISM jumped out at her in spiky writing. She flipped to another note, catching all sorts of other key words. It was like an English professor’s wet dream, every relevant paragraph marked out and broken down.

            Pulling down another one, Steph found the same thing – tons of sticky notes, nearly doubling the size of the book just from the sheer amount. “Wow.”

            “Is that a good wow or a bad wow?” For the second time that night, Jason caught her off guard. She really needed to step up her training. He walked over, toweling his hair dry, and set the books back in their spots.

            “Are you secretly an English teacher, Mr. Hood? Because you could give a few of mine a run for their money.”

            “Nah. I just like to read.” At her pointed look, he shrugged, setting the towel on his shoulders. “Okay, so, maybe I like to read in-depth. It’s not a crime.”

            “Uh huh. You’re a nerd. You’re a closet nerd.” Steph watched him walk toward the kitchen, staring appreciatively at the way his t-shirt stuck to his chest. It fit her like a dress, but it was perfect on him.

            “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Did you order anything to eat? ‘Cause I’m starved.” Steph followed him, hopping up on the counter as he rummaged through a stack of take-out menus.

            “No. I did throw some of your stuff in the wash, though.” He slid some menus over, nodding.

            “Thanks. You wanna pick? Since you’re the guest and all?” He kept a straight face, but the tips of his ears turned red. Steph pressed her lips together faintly, trying not to smile. It was cute. This ridiculously huge, brick shithouse of a man was absolutely adorable. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to cuddle him or fuck him senseless.

            She settled at glancing through the menus, setting aside pizza delivery and Thai. “You feeling up for some Big Rico’s? Or would, uh…this incredibly complex-sounding Thai place be better?”

            He grinned, taking the pizza menu from her. “What do you want on it? Also, house rule says there’s always pineapple. If you have a problem with it, the door is over there.”

            “Pineapple’s good.” Steph collected the rest of the menus, stacking them neatly before sliding them back into the drawer. “Do you have problems with pineapple often?”

            “Damian. He throws a fit. Last time he threw his Chinese ring daggers at me.” He winked at her, grabbing his phone. “But I like you. You have good taste.”

            Steph blushed, busying herself tidying up while Jason placed the order. It wasn’t fair, he wasn’t allowed to be cute and hot and nice to her all at once. Really, he was just being cruel.

            “Says it’ll be 20 minutes.” He turned to look at her, a smirk playing on his lips. “What _ever_ could we do in 20 minutes?”

            “We could always keep playing 20 questions.” 

* * *

 

            “You sure about this?” Jason panted, watching her carefully. “I-I mean, we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.” It was almost endearing, how sweet he was being about the whole thing. Steph would have to think about it fondly at another time. Right now, though, she was very busy sucking a hickey into his neck. He groaned softly, bracing her against the wall in the hall, shifting to keep the pressure off her shoulder.

            “I’m _positive_.” She pulled away from his neck slowly, brushing the mark with her thumb. He whined softly against her good shoulder, making her laugh. Huffing softly, he pressed her closer to the wall, grinding his hips against hers slowly. His erection rubbed her in all the right places, making her shiver.

            He grinned at her, stumbling toward his bedroom slowly. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

            “Jason, you’re a dork.” He laughed, leaning in to kiss her hard. He wasn’t shy like Tim, thank god, but he wasn’t forceful about it either. Steph gladly kissed back, tugging on his shirt. “Also, this needs to come off, now, please.”

            “Yes ma’am.” He smirked, enjoying the look on her face as he slowly pulled the shirt over his head. “Anything else?”

            “Shut _up_ and kiss me.” He pushed her down on the bed gently, grinning as he leaned into capture her lips again. He was warm against her chest, with only her shirt separating them. He pulled back suddenly, breathless.

            “You should be on top.” Steph laughed when he flopped back on the bed, patting his chest. “Come on. You know you want to.”

            “How come?” Not that she minded, exactly, but it was a little odd. She straddled his hips slowly, groaning as his cock brushed against her clit. Jason grinned, licking his lips, sliding his hands up her thighs slowly.

            “So you don’t hurt yourself. Also I can see you better like this.” Steph would have smacked the cheeky grin off his face if he hadn’t bucked his hips, sending pleasure shooting up her spine.

            “I hate you,” Steph shivered, moving to take off her shirt. She really should have planned this better – an injured shoulder made it hard to make any sort of stripping sexy. She ended up rolling the shirt off her bad arm, and judging by the grin on Jason’s face, it wasn’t the most graceful thing in the world.

            In retaliation, she leaned down, kissing the scars she had seen earlier, grinding her hips down against him slowly. He sucked in a short breath, groaning as she slid against his cock. There was only so much teasing she could do, though. Scooting back, she patted his chest to get his attention. “Condoms?”

            “O-oh, yeah, yeah.” Jason rolled to the side slowly, careful not to knock her off, and fumbled at his nightstand for a moment, holding the condom up victoriously. He was ridiculous. It was a miracle he ever scared anyone, really. He was a big, goofy bear. Taking the proffered condom, Steph slid it over his cock slowly, giving the base a soft squeeze just to listen to him moan. “Steph…! Come on…!”

            Smug, Steph settled over him, sliding down his shaft as far as she could go. She had almost forgotten what having real sex was like. She never got this far with Tim, but he became a fleeting fragment in her head when Jason began to move, bucking his hips slowly, pushing himself deeper.

            She felt his hands settle on her hips, pulling her down more as they both adjusted to each other. He was wonderfully hot, filling her better than she had expected. His husky voice cut through the air, making her look up. “Steph…?”

            “I-I’m fine,” she breathed, shifting her hips slowly. The movement sent another shiver down her spine, and she squeezed her thighs together lightly. Jason groaned again, struggling to stay still. “I-I’m fine, just give me a sec…”

            Slowly, she braced herself against his chest with her good arm, raising herself up before letting herself fall back down on his cock, enjoying the ripples of pleasure. As she settled on a rhythm she began rolling her hips slowly, trying to hit the perfect spot that would make her see stars. Jason helped, bucking his hips in time to her movements, making it easier to ride him.

            Steph was getting close, but it was getting harder to hold herself up with one arm, and she didn’t want to explain to people how she blew her stitches if it came down to it. Jason, panting heavily, moved his hands back down, shifting her positioning slightly. It didn’t do much, and Steph was about to say so, when Jason moved to rub at her clit. A moan slipped out from her lips as he rubbed at her clit, bucking his hips in time. Steph’s moans got louder the faster he moved, and every roll of her hips brought her closer to the edge.

            When she finally came, she screamed out his name, feeling his calloused fingers against her sensitive bud and the thrusting of his cock into her pussy as his movements became more erratic. He continued until she slowly came down from her high, trembling and boneless but very satisfied.

            Jason pulled back slowly, panting hard as relaxed, gorgeous green eyes glazed over with pleasure. Steph leaned over his chest lightly, pressing a soft kiss against his neck. He chuckled softly, rubbing her back lightly. Content, Steph slid off, curling up against his side, and fell asleep.  


End file.
